The Queen Diaries
by melicitysmoak
Summary: Widower-dad and CEO Oliver Queen meets and marries IT specialist and single mom Felicity Smoak, and together raise a family of 5 kids. (Olicity AU, collection of related one-shots taking off from the plot and timeline of two multi-chapter fics "My Mom & My Dad" and the sequel "The Queens" already published here; chapters span 20 yrs and written as diary entries from various POVs)
1. Bird Poop and Baby Wipes

**Chapter 1: BIRD POOP & BABY WIPES**

 **A/N: I originally planned to start writing this collection when Season 5 begins, but the last few days have given the hopeless romantic in me the inspiration to write again. (Two friends of mine got engaged. Yey! Congratulations!) So here goes...**

 **This collection of drabbles and one-shots will be written in the form of a diary/journal entries, each one taking off from an event in the timeline of the two chapter books I've published here - "MY MOM & MY DAD" and "THE QUEENS," but not necessarily in chronological order. Some entries will be set in the future, when the Queens are older. Each story will be written from the perspective of either Felicity or Oliver, or one of their children.**

 **Special shout-outs go to varellanoemo, mellovesall, entersomethingcleverhere, and alayneni, some of whose stories I've read have given me such leisure time pleasure. This work is also for you.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Arrow or its characters.**

 **This first chapter is written by Felicity. She writes about how she came to a realization that she had already fallen in love with her friend Oliver.**

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Felicity's Diary

August 15, 2011

I'm feeling quite "under the weather" today. I just woke up from a really nice nap actually. My fever is down and the throbbing headache is almost gone. I guess the Tylenol that Oliver made me take before they left has kicked in. There's still a bit of congestion, so I'm glad I'm writing down everything I want to say instead of having to speak, because right now, I sound more like a man in an underwater aquarium.

I was in Oliver's arms today. That's right! He was down on one knee, cradling me in his strong, muscular arms. He had an arm underneath me, and even if I was wearing a sweater on top of this gray tank top, I could still feel the warmth of his skin across my back. His hand held my nape; they were a bit rough, but that didn't matter. His tender touch gave me the tingles all over, especially when his other hand brushed away a stray strand of hair from my face as he looked into my eyes. Our faces were just a few inches apart. I couldn't breathe, I had forgotten how to speak, and I felt like I'd literally melt under the intense gaze of his amazingly dreamy blue eyes. For a moment there I thought for sure that he was going to kiss me. And then I just had to sneeze! Ugh! Talk about ruining the moment.

Well, it wasn't all fluffy and romantic as I would have wanted it to be anyway. I wasn't really in his arms because he _wanted_ me to be – like if he had embraced me on purpose. It was more because he _had_ to. You see, I had lost my balance and fallen backwards, and Oliver caught me just in time before I hit the back of my head against the corner of the dresser and completely landed on the floor. I'd been feeling so dizzy and woozy all day because of the colds and headache, and when you combine that with my natural clumsiness and the nervous electricity in the air due to having a really handsome hunk inside my bedroom, then… I think you get the picture.

But you know, something tells me that I will always remember that as one of our "moments." Embarrassing, yes. But special, too. The huge and largely unexpected sneeze sent us both crashing on the floor and then rolling over the carpet, laughing our hearts out. As soon as I recovered from the sniggering and the giggling, I had decided that there's really nothing in this world quite like being in Oliver Queen's arms.

There's just something about the way we touch, which has been becoming more frequent in the past couple of weeks. I can feel sincerity. I can also feel respect. And if I'm really being honest, I'd say I can sense… deep emotion. That's all I'm ready to call it, for now. His actions seem to tell me that he has feelings for me now, but he hasn't actually said anything concrete so far, so… I don't think it's fair to him for me to conclude that he feels the same way about me. I also don't think it's right for me to assume.

As far as I'm concerned, I'd be lying if say that I haven't started to have feelings for Oliver. It's really hard not to. He's so kind and gentle and thoughtful and sweet. I can't even picture him as the broody and serious type of guy that Stephen teases him for every once in a while. And he's so good with Emily! Sometimes – okay, I admit, several times – I imagine what it would be like for him to be her Dad, which would lead to me imagining what it would be like for him to be my… Oh! Sometimes I feel like I'm such a pathetic wishful thinker. But I can't help it. He's just so wonderful! I'm sure he's not perfect, but duh? Who is? He's shared stories of how he'd made mistakes in his sordid past – too many to mention, so he admits – but this changed version of him is really impossible for me not to fall in love with.

In love… Wow! Get a grip, Felicity! You have just admitted to your inanimate journal that you are in love with Oliver Queen. _How_ did that happen? _When_ did that happen?

Well… I can't say exactly when that happened. Between now and the first time we met in the park when he and his son Stephen's basketball accidentally bounced off and hit my daughter Emily on her head, we'd just been friends. Really good friends. We'd talk for hours while our kids played in the sandbox, or in the playground, or on the court. Emily and I had had several picnics with them where we'd take turns preparing food and drinks. I've enjoyed doing crossword puzzles with him. I've also been having fun listening to his corny jokes and laughing at them, too, I might add. We've enjoyed taking strolls in the park, and almost always, he and Stephen would walk us back home after each pleasant afternoon at the park. We've enjoyed having him and his son over in our home quite a few times as well. Today they offered to take Emily to the park for a Disney-sponsored event promoting _Frozen 2_ because I'm too sick to take her. (And that is why I'm home alone, writing – or more accurately – typing away my thoughts and feelings to you before the boys and my girl come back.)

When did I fall in love with Oliver? I don't know. I guess it just happened over the summer, somewhere along the friendship way. When did I know that I was falling for him? That's a question I can probably answer more definitely. I think. I think it was last Friday… or the other Friday… or the Friday before that. Let's see.

The Friday before the other Friday, Oliver and I were sitting on my favorite park bench as usual. He was telling me stories of how he and his younger sister Thea usually got into trouble when they were little. I'd been laughing at their crazy antics that nearly got them grounded every time. And just as he was narrating how they had chased away their last "official" governess and gotten her fired, a nasty little birdie flew overhead and dropped some of its poop onto his left shoulder. Imagine how amused I was! Oliver was so engrossed in his storytelling that he had no clue what had just happened, even when my eyes had opened wider and I'd started chewing on my bottom lip. I didn't know how to tell him, coz it was just as funny as the anecdote he was sharing at the moment. He thought I was laughing along at his story when I was actually laughing at the shitty spot on the otherwise perfect shirt that clung to every curve of his very attractive torso. By the time he had stopped chuckling, he wondered why I still couldn't stop snickering and smirking. That's when I had to tell him. He looked at his shoulder and saw the bird poop, and that's when I heard him curse for the first time. He was so embarrassed!

I quickly grabbed the pack of baby wipes that I always bring along in our toddler's bag. (Seriously speaking, baby wipes is one of the most ingenious inventions of mankind in the 21st century. I never leave home without it.) I began to wipe the bird poop off his shirt, rubbing on the grubby spot a little harder to make sure that not a trace of the foul fowl waste was left on his shirt. It took a little longer to remove all of the green and white stuff. Just as I was about done and ready to withdraw my hand from his damp shoulder, he caught me by the wrist and began rubbing my skin gently with his thumb on my pulse point. That startled me a bit, causing me to drop the baby wipes I was holding, but it was quite a lovely surprise that he had held my wrist for a few seconds, and then slowly took my hand in his, intertwining our fingers. My heart was beating so fast! It was as if I had just sprinted a hundred meter dash (which, I have never ever done before, so how on earth am I making that comparison at all? I'll never know!). He was staring at me with eyes that seemed to burn with more than mere fondness. I felt so shy that I broke the gaze and looked down on the baby wipes that fell on his lap, trying in vain to hide the blush that was taking over my cheeks. I don't even remember now what had happened next that caused him to let go of my hand. Everything went all blurry after that because I was too happy and nervous to even think.

I don't know why that moment became so special. That wasn't the first time Oliver had touched me or held my hand. We had shaken hands that afternoon when we first met, though for some reason he wouldn't let go of my hand. He had stared at me with a wide grin on his face, and it wasn't until Emily had tapped on his hand and told him to let go that he finally did. That time I had felt nothing of it. It was just me trying to be nice and polite to a total stranger (well, not exactly a total stranger because I had read about Oliver Queen from magazines and had seen him on TV news a number of times since we'd moved to Starling City).

The second time we had held each other's hands was in the hospital waiting room, when Emily was rushed to the E.R. of Starling General because of her allergic reaction to the nuts in the Snickers that Stephen had given her by mistake. That time, his presence and his touch had simply been a source of comfort to me during a stressful time. He was there for me, and I felt grateful to him for saving Emily's life. I didn't even think twice about us holding hands and me leaning on his shoulder as I pondered on what could have happened to my daughter if he hadn't picked her up and rushed to the hospital on foot. He's been such a wonderful friend, and I'd like to think he also considers me as a good friend. He'd said so himself that evening.

That evening had been spent relaxing in my living room after I had come home from my "monumental day-off." When Emily was in the hospital, Oliver found out that I had never really had a day to myself since Emily and I had moved to Starling City because I had no one to look after her and no budget for a babysitter. Oliver and Stephen had offered to be Emily's sitter that day so that I could have a day-off to enjoy myself. I had a very refreshing and revitalizing day at the resort spa a few miles outside of Starling City, and that day was capped by a pretty profound, heart-to-heart talk with Oliver. That night as we lingered on the couch with our children sleeping on our laps, I thanked him for making me feel so special. Somehow that expression of gratitude led us both to open up about our painful pasts. He shared his failures with his first wife Laurel, whom he had cheated more than once when they were still dating, and whom he had only married under obligation because he had gotten her pregnant. He shared his regrets about finally learning to love her only to lose her to cancer when Stephen was little. I, on the other hand, shared about how I had failed myself and my parents when I fell for Ray Palmer, who had gotten me pregnant out of wedlock after my graduation from MIT, and who had dumped me as soon as he'd learned he was going to be a father. I think that night was when our friendship had taken on a deeper level of trust, transparency, and accountability. We had bonded quite profoundly at that moment. As tears slid down our cheeks, we held hands that night and encouraged each other to keep going, despite the tough times we both had gone through early in life. We assured each other that we'd be there for each other through good times and bad, as any good friend would.

Three times Oliver had already held my hand before the bird poop and baby wipes incident, but there had been no surge of electricity for me back then, no butterflies in my stomach, no rapid heartbeat, and no cheeks flushing red. But that afternoon, there had been. Undeniably so. What had changed?

Then there was the Friday after that. We were sitting on the park bench again, talking and sipping the coffee he had brought. I was the one telling stories of growing up in Vegas, and of course, everyone who knows me knows how animatedly I do that. My free hand was gesturing while I talked, matching the various expressions on my face. I wasn't expecting Oliver to move the hand that was holding his coffee as I swiped my free hand in the air. I accidentally knocked his coffee cup out of his hand, spilling the hot, dark brown liquid on his jeans. Once again, I grabbed baby wipes from our bag and began dabbing several pieces on the soiled portion of his jeans. I'd been too busy apologizing over and over again that I hadn't realized how I'd been rubbing and pressing down on his very well-toned thighs. I don't know whether it was the hotness of the spilled coffee or the fact that my hand was on his thighs, but the moment I picked up on the fact that Oliver was undoubtedly very uncomfortable with the situation, I gasped and apologized even more for making such an awkward situation even worse. I stopped what I was doing and handed him some fresh baby wipes so that he could clean up his jeans himself. I hoped he hadn't noticed how red _my_ face had turned in humiliation, because I sure had noticed how _his_ face had flushed as red as a tomato. Embarrassed, I cleared my throat, excused myself, and stood up to throw the used wipes into the nearest trash bin, taking the time to compose myself after a very, very awkward situation. We haven't talked about that incident yet, and I doubt we ever will, at least, maybe not in the near future.

And then there was last Friday. Just last Friday we were at the park again. Stephen and Emily were playing in the sandbox. Oliver and I were sitting on our favorite bench eating hotdogs with ketchup, mayo, mustard, and pickle relish on top. Sometime during a satisfying conversation about improvements in the IT department of Queen Consolidated since I came on board a little over two months ago, I took a bite into my hotdog sandwich sideways and unintentionally dipped my cheek into the toppings. I chuckled at that, feeling the mustard and ketchup touching my skin. Instinctively, I reached for my handy, ever-reliable cleaning material, but I was unpleasantly surprised to discover that I had run out of wipes. No! I'd forgotten to bring the new pack I'd bought just the day before. I rummaged in the bag for anything else I could use to wipe my face clean, but before I could find the tissue, Oliver reached out and squeezed my arm. He said softly, "Hey, let me get that." He let go of my arm and brought out his handkerchief, which he used to wipe off the mustard and ketchup from my cheek. He put away his handkerchief, so I thought he was done. But as I smiled and thanked him politely, he reached back up with his hand and cupped the left side of my face with it, caressing with his thumb the very spot he had just wiped clean. Oh, how is it that a simple, caring gesture can feel so absolutely amazing?! I closed my eyes, leaned into his palm, and sighed contentedly, peacefully. It felt like coming home. My hand lifted on its own accord and gripped his forearm, and when I opened my eyes, Oliver was smiling affectionately at me. My heart felt like it was ready to burst! To say that I was very happy is an understatement. We just sat there smiling at each other, frozen as in a tableau, unwilling to let each other go. We were literally "saved by the bell," as an ice cream cart rolled by, causing Emily and Stephen to run back to us, screaming for ice cream.

There was definitely something there, for me, at least. And right now, I honestly don't know how to deal with it. I mean, acknowledging that I have feelings for Oliver, an attraction even, is one thing. Wishing that he feels the same way about me is another. And let's just say that even if he feels the same way I do, just how do we move forward from being friends to being lovers? Would things change between us in ways we might regret? Questions, questions. (Sigh…) I guess I'll just have to wait and see, and rein in my emotions in the meantime. Self-control, girl. You can do it!

Oh, well… Blame it on bird poop and baby wipes!

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 **A/N: So what do you think? I hope you liked this first treat. If you have read either or both of the multi-chapter fics from which this new collection is based, let me know if you have any suggestions for which episode in the stories I should get my next chapter from. Any ideas? Comments are very much welcome**!


	2. A Quiver Full of Arrows

_**The Queen Diaries**_

 **Chapter 2: A QUIVER FULL OF ARROWS**

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 **A/N: So here is the second diary/journal entry in this collection. I don't think this qualifies as a drabble because of its length, but I don't think it qualifies as a one-shot either, so yeah... feel free to call it what you like. I just hope that you like it, especially those who have already read the multi-chapter fics from where these entries take off.**

 **In the first entry, we went backwards in the timeline and Felicity wrote about how she had fallen in love with the widower Oliver Queen in my Olicity AU. This one is a future fic. Oliver writes about his family when he is about 51 years old already.**

 **This is especially dedicated to my husband, my Papa, and all you fathers out there, especially to those who are Arrow fans and Olicity shippers. Happy Father's Day!**

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Oliver's Journal

June 20, 2032

Can't believe the nest is empty now. How the years have flown quickly by… Felicity and I were just talking about it over dinner, the first one of many that we'll be having without any of our children from now on. We've been married for over twenty years, and still going strong. And while I can't be happier and more content in life with anyone else but the love of my life, we both know that the Queen mansion, our home, won't be the same without them. After we had lost Mara when Felicity suffered from an early miscarriage 16 years ago, my wife and I had tried to get pregnant again and hadn't used any form of birth control until today, but… I guess Carrie is indeed our last one.

We said goodbye to her at the airport this afternoon. She's off to Harvard Business School beginning this Fall, but she was far too excited to be with her sisters in Cambridge. She insisted on heading east two months early so that she could spend time bonding with Emily and Liv before her freshman year starts. She had passed all the entrance exams in the best colleges and universities here at the west coast, and I was hoping she'd pick any one of them, just like TJ did a few years ago, so that she'd be closer to home. But she still picked Harvard. Of course! She won't admit it up until she was about to board the plane, but I'm pretty sure there has been a conspiracy going on between my wife and our daughters that all the Queen girls would be "educated" on the other side of the country, far away from the watchful eyes of their brothers and their doting father.

Father. (Sigh) Who would have ever thought that a billionaire-playboy-brat like me would end up the proud father of five beautiful and brilliant young adults? Actually, it's six, counting Connor, even if I hadn't gotten the privilege of really raising him as a real father should.

Well, I must say that it's more than just Felicity's genes and mine; I believe that the greater reason behind that success is the committed partnership in parenting that my wife and I have shared all these years. Felicity is a terrific mother. That's actually one of her most admirable qualities – one that drew me to her the very first time we met at the park when she and I were still single parenting. She wasn't just a pretty face with a winsome smile and a sense of humor. I saw how much she adored and cared for little Emily. And the more I got to know her, the more I became convinced that she was the perfect woman who would fill the void in my life and in my son Stephen's life that my first wife Laurel had left when she died of cancer. Felicity did more than fill that void; she breathed life and joy into our lives. She still does. She helped make me the man that I am today. I wouldn't be the kind of father that I am today if not for her.

Father. I didn't know how profound that word really is. Until today. The day the last of the Queen siblings left home. It's Father's Day, actually, and we had been in church this morning. We had plenty of time to attend the service and listen to the Father's Day sermon before heading to the airport in time for Carrie's check-in. Our beloved Reverend Olsen is finally retiring at 78, and he delivered his last sermon on a particularly interesting Psalm that talks about the family, which really got my undivided attention.

The Scripture text he had preached on said that children are a God-given heritage meant to be treasured and that "the fruit of the womb is a reward." It also said that a man with children is like a ready warrior with arrows in his hand, and that having a quiver full of arrows is a blessing that makes a father happy, confident, and secure. The reverend challenged every father in the congregation to use our arrows wisely, to raise our children as if we were aiming arrows at a specific target and making sure we would hit it with precision and accuracy. A quiver full of arrows… I can only hope that I had aimed well and released each of them into the world as responsible young adults ready for the challenges that life brings their way. Stephen, Emily, TJ, Liv, and Carrie are my greatest reward and the most precious treasures that I share with my wife. Call me cheesy or melodramatic, but right now, I feel like I'm the happiest, proudest father in the whole wide world! The joy and privilege and fulfillment of parenting five children are just so overwhelming.

And that's why I'm taking time to write down my thoughts tonight before I join Sleeping Beauty who's already in bed, snoring. She fell asleep after round two and is now wrapped up in the sheets with nothing on. (LOL in my head) Just looking at her right now, seeing those flawless thighs that are still pretty well-toned for a 46-year-old, I'm tempted to put this tablet down, cuddle close to my lovely wife, and bask in her warmth. I've already written more than I'm normally able to jot down anyway. But… today is Father's Day, not Husband's Day, and I think there is no better time than tonight for a sentimental walk down memory lane, counting the arrows in my quiver.

First, there's my oldest, Connor, the son I hadn't known I had. He was conceived...and I say this to my shame...through a one-night stand with a girl named Sandra Hawke, a casual acquaintance in one of the wild nights of my sordid past. I cheated on Laurel when she was still my girlfriend because she asked if we could move in together and that pushed me off the edge that day. Several weeks later, Sandra told me she was pregnant, and then I told my mother, who in her strangely repulsive way of protecting me, paid her off to lie about losing the baby and to disappear. I didn't know I had a son with her until Felicity and I were already in a relationship. The revelation actually almost tore us apart, because Felicity had wanted me to fulfill my moral and legal obligations as Connor's dad. I did, even when Sandra had already married someone else. I was more than a bit relieved that the guy she picked loved our son like his own and willingly took the time and effort to arrange for his legal adoption of Connor, for which I had freely given my consent.

When Sandra died in a skiing accident some years ago, Connor took it pretty hard and started to act out. His dad didn't know what to do. He became reclusive and rebellious. During his early teens, he usually stayed with us here at the mansion during summer and some of the holidays. But that year, he had been knocking at our door every weekend; he used to drive all the way from Central City all by himself as soon as the school bell rang for dismissal, and often without telling his other dad where he'd gone. That year was the year we'd bonded more deeply than ever before. I was able to relate with him in his loss and empathize with him in his grief, having lost someone very dear to me myself. Felicity treated him like her own son, loving him to recovery and beyond. Connor, in turn, learned to love her as his second mother, just as Stephen had. He had bonded quite well with Stephen too, since they both loved sports and were both very athletic.

He had also bonded with Diggle, who was the one responsible for putting the idea in his head that joining the army was one good way to make his life count. When Connor finally snapped out of his misery and brooding, he managed to convince both his father's to let him join the military. He finished the training course and immediately enlisted for his first tour in Afghanistan. After that, he went on his second tour, and a third. In fact, he's still deployed out there right now. God must have doubled or tripled his guardian angels because everyone wonders how on earth he keeps cheating death or dismemberment each time he and his unit get ambushed or sent on a dangerous mission. He is one of the reasons why our family's faith grew deeper. He remains single and isn't bothered by that at all, and he knows that we are all very proud of him as a heroic soldier.

Then I think of Stephen, our oldest. He graduated _cum laude_ from Starling City University with a bachelor's degree in Criminology. After graduation from the police academy, he married his high school sweetheart Katie, Roy's niece, and they now have with two boys – 3-year-old Connor, whom he named after his older half-brother, and 1-year-old Colton, who is named after his best friend. They live in the suburbs on the other side of Starling, and they're also expecting a daughter in two month's time.

His grandfather Quentin and Uncle Roy had been his role models growing up, helping him to look up to local law enforcement with respect and admiration. They were instrumental in him seeing police work as a vocation that's worth his dedication and whole-hearted service. I also think that the two major incidents he had witnessed when he was younger had been a factor in his choice to become a police detective. It was no joke for him to have personally witnessed the assault on Felicity in the Glades on Christmas Eve when he was eight. The abduction of Liv and Carrie and our near-death experience in the hands of Slade Wilson and Helena Bertinelli had also been pretty hard on him in his early teenage years.

At first, I didn't want him to pursue his dream because of the inevitable dangers that went with the job. My father-in-law and I argued all the time after Stephen announced his plans of enrolling in the Academy. It was the same with Thea. Felicity believed in our son, saying that he had a strong moral fiber inside him that would give him the character and integrity that law enforcement demanded these days. Katie stood by him ever since, supporting his single-minded aspiration of following in the footsteps of his grandfather and his uncles – Diggle included. Diggle was the one who convinced me that the physical prowess and kinesthetic abilities Stephen had inherited from me would definitely be put to good use, if only I'd give him my blessing. I figured that helping to keep the city safe was far more significant than winning basketball league championships and earning medals as a track star, so I did. I gave him my blessing, supported his education and training at the Academy, and I couldn't have been prouder of how my son has turned out.

At age 30, Stephen is one of the best detectives in his precinct. He was awarded a citation for heroism a few months ago for taking a bullet in the back for a homeless guy that got caught in the crossfire during a drug bust in the Glades. When we got the call that he'd been shot in the line of duty, we were terrified. Everyone was afraid he wouldn't live to see his daughter born, but he pulled through and is back to his old self.

Thomas John, our younger son, is now a senior in Stanford taking up Arts and Design, majoring in Industrial Design. At 20, TJ envisions heading up the Applied Sciences Division of Queen Consolidated, as suggested by none other than his mother. Even before he became a tweener, he had already outgrown drawing cars, spaceships, and other childish contraptions. I couldn't believe the machines, gadgets, and other inventions he had been designing until he actually built life-sized models of some of them in our basement. I did not need a lot of convincing when he showed me his college application papers and asked for my support.

Felicity had been the first to spot his talent even as a preschooler. (No one in the family would forget his significant contribution to the rescue and recovery of his sisters when they were kidnapped. His vivid, detailed illustration of the abductors, coupled with his eye witness testimony, became the breakthrough lead in that case.) My wife had done her homework, searching for the best schools way back when TJ was still in middle school. In the beginning, Felicity tried to persuade him to go to MIT where she graduated from, because according to the QS World University Rankings, it ranked 3rd in the world in the field of Arts and Design. Nevertheless, TJ chose Stanford – which still ranked reasonably and respectably well as 10th in the United States – because he wanted to stay close to family. Felicity and I were glad he did, and it wasn't really a surprise that he wanted to be near. Among our five children, TJ is the one most attached to me and Felicity. He drives the long distance between Starling and Stanford every other weekend just to see us and Stephen's family. He'd tell stories about school and the amazing projects he's working on. He's now the one who takes me to car shows, explaining the latest features in automobile designs.

In the last couple of visits, he's brought along a girl. Her name is Jen, and she's also an Art major in Stanford. Felicity likes her a lot. The first time, I didn't know yet how serious he was about this girl, but I must say, my son has impeccable taste in women. (My wife says she's got a very good hunch about who he gets that from.) Before TJ and Jen headed back to Stanford in their last visit, I pulled our son aside, intending to give him a short man-to-man talk. When my son saw the look on my face, he immediately smirked and said, "No worries, Dad. We're not fooling around." He calmly reassured me that the talks he'd had with me and his older brother growing up have been permanently "drilled into his brain" and "etched upon his heart." He sounded both practical and poetic, and knowing my son, I couldn't help but think there was more than just friendship going on between him and Jen. "She comes from a family with the same values as ours, Dad. I made sure," TJ added. He explained that she was not just attractive and extremely artistically talented but also kind, thoughtful, and decent. That was enough to put my fears to rest.

TJ's twin, Olive Rose, is also on her senior year in college, taking up Linguistics in Harvard. That was an easy decision for Felicity and me to make, considering how verbally-linguistically gifted our daughter is. What better way to put her babbling to maximum profitable use, we had thought. The results of Liv's IQ test were off the charts, and she had passed the entrance exam in every university she applied for with flying colors. In fact, she missed only one item in the Harvard entrance test, and her interview impressed the faculty panel so much so that they offered her a full scholarship even if they knew exactly how financially capable her family is.

We have also observed that Liv is more independent than any of her siblings and more than capable of living alone. At age 4 she could bathe herself quite impressively, and as early as First Grade she could manage to do homework by herself. When Emily left home to study at MIT, Liv proved to be the more responsible sibling, helping us take care of Carrie and look after her twin brother. In school, she was often elected class president, and in junior high, she ran for president of the student council uncontested and, of course, won.

For a time, Felicity and I were worried that Liv's independent, headstrong personality was a deterrent to her social life. She wasn't the cheerleader type, neither was she athletic. She didn't really like going to parties and sleepovers. The few girl friends she had were almost always on the geeky side (like her). There were no boys calling on her, no guys asking her out. We felt that boys were intimidated by her intelligence and aggressiveness. It's too bad they couldn't see her charming side, which often was evident only to family and close friends. Felicity even had to ask Diggle for a favor to have his son Andy take Liv to the prom. Twice. There was one nerdy-looking guy in senior high that showed interest in her, too much interest for my liking. And when that boy crossed the line and began stalking her, my wife was furious! She threatened to mess with his email and all his online accounts and to hack his academic records to make sure all of his college applications would be denied. The guy backed down, afraid that the rest of his life would be ruined just because of a smart girl (two, actually). After two weeks of surveillance, Diggle informed us that Liv was safe.

Now we're no longer anxious about Liv's social life. She has adjusted well in Harvard, where she's surrounded by more people who are "normal" based on her standards, and she doesn't feel out-of-place anymore. She has blended in and has made more friends and acquaintances than all those she'd considered "friends" from first to tenth grade put together. She has also met someone – something that Felicity still can't get over until now.

His name is Hans, and he's an exchange student from Finland that Liv had met when she took up a language elective. When Liv Facetimed last year to introduce Hans formally to us as her boyfriend, Felicity cried tears of joy. Liv and Emily came home last Thanksgiving, and Hans was with them. The night before they left to return to Massachusetts, when our girls had all gone up to bed, Hans asked to speak with me and Felicity. He asked for our blessing because he intended to propose to our daughter sometime after Christmas. He's a good kid, the son of government clerks (but with the manners of royalty), who had earned a full scholarship through hard work and sheer brilliance, especially in the field of European languages. That night, after we gave Hans our blessing, Felicity cried even more. She cried again on New Year's Day when Liv had Skyped, telling us that she's engaged and showing off her ring.

Liv and Hans had Skyped again just last April to greet us on our wedding anniversary and Felicity's birthday. Felicity cried even more when took the opportunity to share their upcoming plans with us. Apparently, after graduation Hans was going home for good because he already had a prestigious job offer for a teaching position in the university. Their plans include Liv applying for a master's degree program in Linguistics. In Finland. After their wedding. In Helsinki. In August. For which they were both hoping that not only Felicity and I would agree to, and that all of us – family and friends – can attend.

Felicity and I were dumbfounded. This Finnish boy was taking away our Liv. Although we did give them the green light, we still have mixed emotions. We are happy for our daughter; it's just that we will miss Liv terribly once she settles in Finland and starts her own family there. It's not like we can't afford to visit her as often as we like, especially once we start having Scandinavian grandkids (whom we are hoping will take after their mother and have the knack to be bilingual so that we could communicate with them). But the Queen family wouldn't be the same with Liv living on the other side of the globe. TJ was particularly sad that his twin sister is moving far away, but he felt better when Liv invited him to visit them in Helsinki to check out Scandinavian art. Oh yes, we are very happy for Liv; it's just that we also didn't expect for her to be the next in line to get married. We had always thought it would be Emily.

Emily is 25 and still single. She followed in the footsteps of her mother and went to MIT to pursue a bachelor's degree in Computer Science. After graduating _magna cum laude_ with a GPA that almost came close to Felicity's, Emily was recruited by the FBI in Quantico, Virginia upon the recommendation of Ms. Penelope Garcia herself. (Garcia and Felicity had stayed in touch and had become very good friends since the BAU team of Agent Aaron Hotchner worked the abduction case of our daughters in 2016.) Garcia had planned to take advantage of early retirement and wanted someone she could trust and train to take her place as senior technical analyst before she left for good.) Emily passed all the tests and interviews and got hired as a technical analyst of the Behavioral Analysis Unit after a full year of paid internship under the mentorship of Ms. Garcia.

When Garcia finally retired, Emily was immediately promoted to senior technical analyst. She loved her job. She constantly shared with Felicity highs and lows of the various cases they were working on – both the successful ones and the not-so-successful ones. She would tell me and her Uncle John about how well she was doing in the occasional field assignments that the BAU team asked her to join. There was this one time when she got hurt in the field. A serial killer they'd been tracking took her hostage and when she tried to fight back, the guy punched her in the face. It was a good thing her unit rescued her and apprehended the un-sub just in time before she got hurt even worse, because if that had happened, I would've been on the first plane out to Virginia to bring her home for good. After that incident, Emily started training in self-defense and how to shoot with a hand gun. She even bragged about her sharp-shooting abilities and dared to challenge her grandfather and her uncles, John and Roy, to a shooting contest when she came home to Starling for a visit.

That was how she met Vince. He was an FBI agent, the newest addition to Agent Hotchner's team, and the one who had offered to give her free self-defense and shooting training. The first time I saw Vince in a picture Emily had sent to Felicity's phone, I couldn't help but think that our daughter's taste was a lot like her mother's. Vince looked a lot like me when I was younger, except that he had dark brown hair. He was handsome, well-built, tall, had cropped hair and a stubbly jaw. It didn't take long for Emily to fall in love with the guy.

The first time Felicity and I met him when we visited Emily on a side trip to Washington D.C. on business, I found him a bit cocky and overly confident, but maybe that was just me being overprotective of our eldest daughter. Felicity and Emily coaxed me to give the guy a chance, and I did. As we got to know him better, we understood him better. Vince was an only child, and his father had died when he was fourteen, causing him to grow up sooner than most young men his age. His mother relied on him for almost everything she couldn't do, and because of the burden of responsibilities, Vince had to learn how to be tough.

Emily and Vince's relationship had been pretty serious. They'd been together for almost two years. Felicity and I had always thought that they would end up together, and we were sure Vince was ready to pop the question. But one fateful day when their unit was working a serial case in Austin, Texas, Vince was shot twice in the chest and eventually died in surgery. Emily took his passing real hard. Why wouldn't she? She'd been on the comms with the team the entire time, and when he got shot, his last words before he fell unconscious were meant for her. He had told her how much he loved her.

Emily quit her job, came home to us depressed, and spent the entire summer grieving. After a series of grief counseling with Reverend Olsen, and with the steady, unwavering support of family and friends, Emily began to recover emotionally. She got her confidence back. That's when she decided to go back to school and pursue her master's degree in Computer Science and Engineering. She promised me and Felicity that upon graduation she would come back, poised to take over her mother's job as the head of QC's IT department. Now she's back in MIT, living a pretty normal life, but she says she's not yet ready for another relationship at the moment. That's okay. She has plenty of time, and I believe she has yet to meet the love of her life. I know from experience; I was only finally able to let go and stop grieving over the death of my first wife when I met Felicity. I hope and pray that Emily, in God's time, will also meet the one who will sweep her off her feet and make her never feel lonely ever again.

That's also why Carrie Cruiser Queen is off to Cambridge early. She wants spend time with Emily to keep her company and cheer her up. She knows that when Liv leaves, it'll just be her and Emily in the bungalow that we had purchased for them there. Carrie also wants to bond with Liv before she gets married and leaves for good in two months. The three of them will be planning the wedding together over the summer, with their Aunt Thea as the eager and enthusiastic consultant. Who knows what those girls are up to? They're full of surprises, and they can brighten up anybody's day, just like their mom brightens up my day.

I really miss our girls. And I'm surely going to miss Carrie, our youngest.

The day she was born was the day I started calling her our "pretty princess." I do not mean to brag, but believe me when I say that she is most beautiful girl on the face of the earth. People say parents shouldn't play favorites. But when it comes to beauty, charm, and grace, I'm sorry, but I had broken that parenting rule long before Carrie learned how to walk. Surprisingly, Carrie came out a brunette like Thea, but she has Felicity's smooth and wavy hair texture. Her face is shaped like mine, but her nose is definitely her mother's. She also has our ocean blue eyes, and she has the most captivating smile anyone could ever lay eyes on. She could melt any person's heart with just a grin or a chuckle. Straightaway I knew that when she grew up into a young lady, boys will be lining up at our door just to ask her out, so I promised myself that every single boy that would show even the slightest bit of interest in my daughter would have to come through me. And come through me they did. Only a handful ever made it into our house, and I could count with the fingers of one hand the ones who had the guts to come back a second time. If I remember right, only a couple of decent-looking boys have been able to take her out on a date so far.

I'm not worried at all about her going off to college thousands of miles away. Sure, she has had a lot of guys running after her all throughout high school, but she has never had a boyfriend. Not even one. She must have taken to heart her mother's advices. I've constantly reminded Felicity to teach Carrie how to be very careful about boys and extra careful about relationships, especially with her million-dollar looks and magazine-cover figure. She'd also been very open to us about her crushes, particularly one Trevor Rogers, a transfer student who had shown interest in her last year. That didn't work out, though, because the cute and cool guy turned out to be a scumbag who only wanted to get into her pants. Felicity had to restrain me bodily to keep me from charging into the school and confronting (more like punching) that idiot. Instead, she sent John to take care of the problem. Carrie did learn her lesson because of that, especially when Felicity opened up about her experience with Ray Palmer that led to her getting pregnant with Emily out of wedlock and becoming a single parent at 22.

The day she got accepted into Harvard, she bought herself a promise ring and slipped it into her finger in front of me and Felicity. She said that with God's help and our guidance, she would keep herself pure for the right man all the way up to their wedding night. She said that she wanted to honor us. She had remembered the story we had told her and her older siblings over family dinner on our fifteenth wedding anniversary; it was about how Felicity and I had both wanted to give each other the gift of purity on our wedding night, but couldn't, because of the crazy, regrettable choices we'd made in our youth, and how we had promised one another during our honeymoon that we would teach our sons and daughters the lessons we had learned the hard way so that they would get the chance to do it right when the time came for them to make the same choices. Carrie wears the ring to honor that desire, and we love her all the more for it.

Wow, I've written quite a long journal entry. Oliver Queen does have a lot to say after all. Maybe the years of experience are catching up with me. Maybe I just need to write more often instead of storing up all the memories in my head most of the time.

Well, so much for counting the arrows in my quiver. Six children. Six wonderful children now all grown-up. I'm happy and proud to be their dad, more now than ever before. I am blessed and satisfied that my quiver was full of them. Today's the first day that it's empty. I've shot all the arrows in the air, hoping that each of them will find their rightful place in this world and be truly happy. Now Stephen – who had made me a grandfather before I hit the golden age of 50 – has his own quiver of arrows to sharpen and shoot, and maybe TJ - and hopefully someday Connor, too - will follow suit sooner than we expect. I can only hope that our sons will be the kind of father that will also aim their arrows straight to their targets. I can only pray that our daughters will choose the fathers of their children wisely.

I love you – Connor, Stephen, Emily, TJ, Liv, and Carrie.

And I love you most of all, Felicity Megan Smoak Queen. Thank you for being the mother of _**all**_ my children.

* * *

" _Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the children of one's youth. Blessed is the man who fills his quiver with them!" Psalm 127:3-5a_

 _ **Happy Father's Day!**_

 **A/N: Thank you for reading this, and if you liked it or any part of it, please drop a line or two. I'd really appreciate to hear from you.**


	3. Bali

_**Queen Diaries**_

 **Chapter 3: BALI**

 **A/N: I've recently been to Bali. While I was there, my thoughts traveled to Olicity's conversations about their stay there during the summer hiatus of Season 3.5, and I thought I'd draw inspiration from that probably-once-in-a-lifetime experience to spice up this collection of one-shots on my Queen family AU. Let me know what you think!**

* * *

 **Felicity's Diary**

 **May 12, 2012**

We're on a four-hour lay-over in Manila before our connecting flight to Bali. Oliver and I have already spent an hour over coffee and doughnuts at Starbucks, and we have three more hours to kill. So, I figured I'd write something while Oliver is busy replying to emails from the office. He knows it's the last time he's allowed to do that. We had a deal that once we land in Bali, he's banned from doing actual work. We are, after all, on our honeymoon.

Finally!

At last we are able to get away from work and domestic concerns. We were supposed to leave for Bali the day after the wedding. Everything was set. Moira and Thea were ready to pamper and spoil Stephen and Emily while we're gone. But, of all the times Emily would suddenly get a bad asthma attack, it had to be that early morning just as we were about to leave for the airport.

She had gone down to the kitchen on her own after she cuddled with us and said goodbye. There on the breakfast counter she had stumbled upon my wedding bouquet that Thea had caught the night before during the reception, and she had played with it. Needless to say, by the time Oliver and I were at the foyer with our suitcases in tow, Emily had sniffed enough pollen from the flowers, which had caused an allergic reaction and led to a severe asthmatic attack.

Honeymoon got cancelled indefinitely, and we spent two days at the hospital until she was cleared to go home. Although my daughter mattered to me more than an all-expense-paid trip to one of the world's best tropical resort islands, I was nonetheless frustrated because I had been looking forward to the trip, looking forward to spending time alone with Oliver for the next two weeks. Of course, Oliver was perhaps even more disappointed than I was, even if he tried not to show it. He had planned everything to the detail. He had carefully selected the hotel where we are booked, he had set our itinerary for each day with a sky's-the-limit budget, and he had contracted a professional car rental service that is highly recommended on the island as the best when it came to safety and security. He even did some research on Balinese cuisine for my sake, making sure we avoid certain dishes that had nuts in them. Oh, I just love this wonderful man!

It had felt like a bucket of ice cold water had been poured over our excitement. But hey, it's not Emily's fault that she's allergic even to beautiful things. Sure, blame it on the genes, since she inherited her allergies from me. Anyways, past is past. What's important is that we are finally on our way.

We had agreed that we would wait another week to make sure that Emily's okay before we re-booked our flight. I didn't want for her to be a burden to Moira and Thea, especially since she had been put on steroids again for another month. But Thea was so kind, reassuring me that she could handle the added responsibility of managing Emily's meds. She was the one who convinced me to go ahead with the honeymoon ASAP instead of waiting another week.

But, when it rains, it pours. Just as Oliver's secretary was about to book our flight, stuff happened at Queen Consolidated, and Oliver had to do some troubleshooting and damage control because Moira and Walter had asked him to stay and help out. It took the three of them an entire week to sort things out with corporate bureaucracy before things calmed down at QC. _(my eyes rolling now)_ And so, the waiting time for this honeymoon had extended from just a couple of days to two long, stressful weeks.

Still, what matters is that we are just a few hours away from our romantic, dream get-away. I'm counting the hours…

* * *

 **Oliver's Journal**

 **May 14, 2012**

We're finally here.

Bali. This place is truly… beautiful. Like the woman covered in fluffy white sheets on the bed behind me, still sound asleep. The view from the balcony of our five-star hotel suite here at Nusa Dua is simply breathtaking – white sand beach, crystal clear blue waters, and a shoreline lined with tiny umbrella-like trees and towering coconut trees. But really, it's not even half as breathtaking as my Felicity, my lovely wife.

Wife. I still can't quite believe that she is now mine and I am now hers, even if the wedding was two weeks ago. And last night? Oh, last night with her is perhaps the best night of my life so far. Even better than our wedding night.

When we were planning for our honeymoon, I told Felicity that I've always wanted to go to Bali, way back when Tommy, Laurel, and I were still in college. When I asked last February if she would come here with me for our honeymoon, she flashed that charming smile that I knew she'd always reserved just for me and replied eagerly, "Yeah. I'd go anywhere with you."

We arrived the other day at sundown. Hotel shuttle picked us up promptly from the Ngurah Rai International Airport in Denpasar. From there it was about a thirty-minute ride to our hotel. After we got settled in this suite, we went down to the main dining hall for a sumptuous buffet dinner. We had a long trip, so we decided to retire early and rest.

Yesterday early in the morning, Felicity and I strolled barefoot along the entire stretch of the Nusa Dua beach, passing one hotel beachfront after another and taking pictures. Everything was quiet and serene, something that we rarely come by these days in Starling City. All we could hear were the chirping of tropical birds, the soft crashing of waves and the sizzling of sea foam, and the tender swooshing of sea breeze.

After breakfast, we spent the rest of the day relaxing in our room, enjoying the suite's amenities and Skyping with the kids. We also lounged around in the hotel, exploring the different attractions and services it had to offer. They have a top-of-the-line gym, which for me was good news. Felicity was thrilled that WiFi access was excellent anywhere in the hotel. They had a cozy bar and music lounge, equipped with karaoke. They had a Zen-themed pool that had a fantastic view of the beach. We also learned that they had an authentic Balinese spa, and Felicity immediately booked us both for spa treatments after an early dinner. She enjoyed the Balinese aroma therapy and cream bath with facial treatment while I tried the warm stone and herbal therapy massage. Man, that was a totally amazing exotic experience! By the time Felicity and I made it back to our room, we were so relaxed and invigorated, and that led to her and me enjoying another fantastic evening together.

…which brings me back to why I was writing about how breathtaking my wife is and how fantastic our time alone with each other was last night. Touching her, holding her close and feeling her heartbeat as we reveled in the sheer pleasure of oneness was… _(sigh)_ There are just no words to describe it! I'm just… I'm so glad we waited… for this. I can't thank God enough for giving me another chance at this, for the pure bliss of marriage and intimacy, and for the precious, precious gift of FELICITY _(pun intended)._

I'm also thankful for this honeymoon. Marriage to Felicity is my second, but this honeymoon is actually my first. I didn't have one with Laurel because we got married when she was already five months pregnant with Stephen. After our son was born, we never got around to planning one until… until she got sick and passed away. That's why for the next two weeks here, I'm going to make sure that Felicity will never forget it for the rest of her life.

I love her so much.

* * *

 **Felicity's Diary**

 **May 19, 2012**

Today is Saturday, and I have declared it as rest day. Sure, the past few days have been a blast, but I woke up this morning totally exhausted despite having slept for eight hours straight – a luxury that's normally beyond my grasp back home. Oliver's out early. He said he'd go straight to the gym downstairs to work out after a morning run at the beach. He tried to bribe me with kisses to join him, but… Nah! I'm not a lazy person. I'm used to getting up early to make breakfast for my daughter and start doing chores. That hadn't changed even when we moved into the mansion the day before the wedding. But today? Pffft… I'm going to excuse myself for being a couch potato for a day. So, while waiting for room service to bring breakfast (which, they said was going to take about 45 minutes), I thought I'd jot down our highs and lows in the last three days.

Monday was water sports day at Tanjung Benoa, which is about 20 minutes from our hotel. I enjoyed paddling in a canoe with Oliver, which wasn't really fun because of the scorching heat of the sun. Can't remember how many times I had to reapply sunscreen, which was kind of annoying because the sunscreen mixed with so much sweat. By 10:00, there was nothing that Oliver could do to make me get back on the water. Seriously, I don't think I've ever sweat that much in my life! At least the banana boat ride was cool, even if it looked a bit awkward that Oliver and I were the only two persons straddling that gigantic inflatable banana that was dragged by a small speedboat. In the afternoon we went snorkeling. That was more like it. I had so much fun! There were corals and lots of colorful tropical fish swimming everywhere. They were so cute!

Tuesday was a bit too daring for me. In the morning I did try to learn the basics of surfing at the beach in Sanur because Oliver really wanted to do that with me. But when he mentioned that he wanted to try scuba diving in the afternoon, I categorically said NO. I told him he didn't have to cancel just because I didn't want to have a go at it, so he went ahead and did it, while I lay down on the beach relaxing and getting a bit of a tan. I might have baked a few minutes longer than I originally intended so my back has been a little sore for a few days now, which was why the next day we stayed away from too much sun.

Wednesday was spent in Kuta, walking along the beach in the early morning and checking out the local shops for souvenirs as they opened. I got myself and Emily really cute, matching rompers and jumpsuits made of colorful tie-dye fabric, which we can still wear back in Starling throughout the summertime. Oliver picked out _batik_ shirts for Stephen and himself. Our driver and tour guide, Wayan, brought us to one of the nearby malls for lunch, and then we went window-shopping and got ourselves some ice cream. (Can you believe they didn't have mint chocolate chip anywhere?!)

In the late afternoon, Wayan suggested that we go to Jimbaran, which was the beach famous for grilled seafood, fireworks, and fire dance shows from sunset until evening. Wayan was right. We enjoyed a special candle-lit dinner at the beach (that was really a stretch of restaurants as far as the eye could see) under an ornate, bright pink and blue umbrella. We watched the short fireworks display followed by a fire dance by some local performers. All that time, Oliver had his own fire lit up, keeping me warm by wrapping his arm around my shoulders and planting kisses in my hair, temple, and neck from time to time. Hmmm…

Thursday, we went sight-seeing further north into the island. Wayan brought us to a place called Ubud, which was about an hour and a half away from our first hotel. Oliver had booked us in a four-star hotel for the next few days because there was just so much to see in the northern parts of the island. The four-star hotel wasn't as classy as the one we were checked in at in Nusa Dua, but it was pretty much decent and modest, and more traditional in its designs and layout.

Wayan had learned how much I adored coffee and thought he would bring us to a coffee plantation on our way to Ubud. I was really excited to try out the different kinds of coffee they grew there. They grew and processed _arabica_ and _robusta_ , and they even had vanilla coffee and cocoa coffee. Oliver and I tried the world-famous Indonesian coffee called _luwak_ , and it was really awesome! But when I found out what it was made from, my stomach churned and it took all of my will power not to spew the dark brown liquid from my mouth.

They had brought us to the processing area of the plantation and showed how _luwak_ coffee is made… from the coffee beans that the little furry animal called the _luwak_ swallowed, digested, and then pooped. I just couldn't get over how poop is able to make coffee taste so good! I did regain my composure soon enough, and when I did, I made sure to drop by their store and buy some packs of the coffee to give to Diggle and Lyla, Thea and Roy, Tommy and Sara, and even Quentin. I just can't wait to see the look on their faces when I tell them what _luwak_ coffee is all about while they enjoy this amazing caffeinated drink. (LOL)

Wayan offered to take us to the monkey forest, which was a tourist attraction in Ubud, but Oliver and I deferred. I mean, monkeys? Really? I chose, instead to do the elephant safari short ride. We had lunch in a really cool place with a view of the Kintamani Volcano, and then we checked into our hotel after lunch. We then visited the Ubud art villages to see wood carvings in Mas, gold and silver works in Celuk, hand weaving in Tophati, and traditional paintings in Batuan. I picked out a pair of really nice wooden bookends with carvings of birds for Walter. Oliver liked a rural landscape painting for Moira – the scene quite similar to a few rice terraces we had seen in the countryside on the way to our hotel earlier that day. We also got my parents some _batik_ fabric, thinking how much my mother would love the flashy gold colors that blended with the Indonesian _batik_ patterns. Wayan was such a big help in bargaining with the local vendors for cheaper prices.

The next day Friday, we visited other tourist attractions in and near Ubud. We went to the Ubud Palace, the Mengwi Royal Family Temple, and one of Bali's most famous icons – the Bedugul floating temple on Beratan Lake known as Ulun Danu. That's where Wayan captured what is, by far, one of the best photographs of Oliver kissing me on the cheek – right in front of a towering traditional pagoda. That shot is absolutely going into that mother of pearl picture frame I bought in the Kuta mall, which will soon be standing on top of my bedside table back home so that it can always remind me of our memorable honeymoon here in Bali. The rest of the day was spent shopping in the Ubud market – where I got really nice _sarungs_ for Thea, Lyla, and Sara and a native thumb piano called the _kalimba_ for Emily. We – okay, I – shopped until I dropped, and that's why I'm all worn out – which, for someone like me, is pretty unexpected. Because it really takes a lot to wear me down – a trait that I'm sure Oliver is beginning to appreciate.

Oops… gotta end here coz I can hear knocking. It's either Oliver or room service. Bye for now.

* * *

 **Oliver's Journal**

 **May 22, 2012**

This is the third time Felicity complained of dizzy spells in the last three days. She kept muttering yesterday about maybe needing to get her eyes checked when we get back. She said she can't remember when her last visit to her ophthalmologist was, so she thinks that maybe she needs new prescription lenses. I hope she feels better when she wakes up in the morning. Wayan and I made sure that the itinerary for tomorrow would be more manageable and less stressful, because she might want to take it easy for a while. I had wanted to take her sunrise trekking northeast of the island on the slope of Mount Batur to view the three majestic mountains that the locals are raving about, but considering how easily she got tired in the past few days, I think a change in plans is not that big of a deal. I guess I'll have to cancel the white water rafting at the Ayung River, too.

I've had enough of the animal encounters, but because I know my wife enjoys them, I just try to enjoy them, too. Sunday had been exciting even for her, when we swam with the dolphins in the northern part of the island called Singaraja. It was after she got out of the shower and met up with me at the visitors' area that she had felt a bit queasy.

It happened again yesterday after checked out of the hotel in Ubud at around noontime and traveled back to the southeastern part of Bali. Felicity had enjoyed Turtle Island, touching and feeding both the smaller and larger turtles, which are among the protected animals on the conservation island. Then she wanted to go on the glass-bottom boat ride to see more corals and other marine life. (Truth be told, I thought the boat ride wasn't as interesting as I expected it to be. It's not like we haven't seen turtles or marine creatures on a glass-bottom boat before. California has some pretty cool aquariums and marine attractions, too.) It was when we disembarked from the boat onto the platform that Felicity wobbled a bit. Good thing I caught her by the elbow, or she would have fallen backwards and hit her head on the edge of the boat. I asked if she was okay, but she just shrugged and blamed it on seasickness.

On the way back to Nusa Dua to check back in to this hotel, she asked if I'd consider getting our family a pet when we get back. When I asked her what kind of pet she thought we should have, she said that the kids would probably love to have a dog. I didn't think it would be a problem at the mansion, not even with my mother, so I said, "Dog, it is."

Today after breakfast we did the Ocean Walker, which some of the hotel staff had recommended that we try. It was a thirty-minute walk on the bottom of the sea, wearing a special underwater suit that came with a waterproof head gear. Felicity laughed as she looked at me wearing the suit; she said I looked like my head was drowning inside an oversized fish bowl. We had a good laugh at that, and we did enjoy coming face to face with exotic fish and colorful sea creatures. It was after the attendants had gotten us out of those underwater contraptions that Felicity complained of dizziness again. We just went back to our hotel so she could rest, and I cancelled the outdoor massage at the beachfront that we booked for the afternoon.

Lunch was ordered through room service again, and then she slept all afternoon. I had gone to the gym when she dozed off, but when I got back, she was still sleeping. I didn't want to wake her, even if I wasn't sure it was such a good idea for her to skip dinner altogether, but she looked like she really needed the rest, so I headed off to the restaurant for dinner alone. I just got her some doughnuts from the hotel pastry shop in case she wakes up hungry in the middle of the night.

I hope she's not coming down with a bug or something. I'd been very careful about the water we drink and the food we eat here. I can only hope that she does feel better tomorrow. I'd hate for a virus to spoil the rest of our honeymoon. After all, we only have three days left here, and I have secretly planned a romantic dinner (with the help of Wayan) in Dreamland Beach at sundown on Friday followed by another relaxing massage. I want to make our last night in Bali extra memorable – and pleasurable for my amazing wife – before we fly back to Starling early the next morning.

* * *

 **Felicity's Diary**

 **May 24, 2012**

Ugh! I've seen enough temples and palaces to last me a lifetime! I just want to sleep. Oliver went off for an afternoon run on the beach, so I figured I'd have time to jot down some… important… stuff, while he's not around… and while I'm still pretty much awake. I really don't want to worry him over things I'm not sure of myself. I don't want to read so much into what I've been experiencing lately, but I just can't help it.

Yesterday we went for a relaxing swim at Pandawa Beach, one of the newest tourist attractions here in Bali, not yet fully developed and commercialized. That place was paradise on earth! The powdery white sand seemed to glow under the sunlight, clear and calm waters were as blue as the sky, and the cliff-side view of the panorama was simply spectacular. Wow! It was perfect for swimming and just relaxing under beach umbrellas.

Everything should have been perfect for me, except that I felt really strange. The weather was quite hot and a little bit humid especially around noontime, but I had cold sweat on my forehead, my neck, and all over my torso, and oddly, I had felt a bit cold. A couple of times the sea breeze blew and I shivered, goose bumps erupting on my skin. I felt my heart pounding in my chest, and I usually don't palpitate. Minutes later, I suddenly felt warm all over, like a hot flash rushed from the sole of my feet to the top of my head. It was a good thing I started feeling better in the afternoon because I wouldn't have had a wonderful time watching the magnificent sunset at Tanah Lot.

The same thing happened to me today at Dreamland Beach, except that the strange changes in temperature were accompanied by mild, yet erratic dizzy spells all throughout the day. And I didn't have boat-rides and seasickness to blame them on anymore.

That's not all.

In the afternoon we went sight-seeing at Uluwatu cliff temple grounds. We wanted to watch the traditional _kecak_ monkey dance, too. As soon as we arrived at the gate to get tickets, an attendant greeted Oliver by wrapping a _sarung_ around his waist. I had thought that those wrap-around cloths were only for women. Apparently guests at the temple grounds were supposed to show respect by not displaying bare legs. It was a good thing I wore jeans today. Oliver, however, wore his khaki walking shorts, so the guy at the gate went after him. As Oliver went to get our tickets, I read the park rules and was amused by the last one on the list. It said that women with their monthly period may enter the Uluwatu grounds, but only up to the temple steps. I thought that was odd, but I knew that it must have something to do with their beliefs about the sacredness of the place. I mean, how would park officials even know which women had their periods while visiting today? Were they going to ask me point blank when I present my ticket? I was fooling around with those thoughts in my head when it hit me.

I should have had my period already! And I mean days ago. I happen to have a 35-day cycle that operates like clockwork. I did the math in my head as Oliver and I walked hand in hand down the path through the trees. I only hoped he didn't notice how clammy my hand had become, or how speechless I had become. And yes… definitely… today is way past my first day of bleed. In fact… I… I should have had my period on the day we arrived in Bali! I figured that if I'm doing the mental math right, and something did happen during my fertility window – which was, when? Oh my…! Our wedding night had fallen on my 21st day! And Oliver and I had been oblivious to that fact.

What are the odds? What am I supposed to think? How could I have missed the signs? This is not my first time after all.

It was right about that time when I was internally panicking with excitement that a stupid monkey came out of nowhere and decided to ruin my Aha! moment. The despicable creature tugged at my ponytail and grabbed by glasses, and then scurried off to climb back up a tree. Great! Oliver couldn't go after the monkey to retrieve my glasses. When we asked the park attendants for help, they explained that such things were common and told us to wait. Apparently there were locals who would go and retrieve items snatched by monkeys that were allowed to roam freely in the park, but we had to pay the boy who got my glasses back. We did get my glasses back in less than an hour, just in time for me to enjoy the picturesque sunset overlooking the cliff temple, soft hues and pigments fading in the sky as the fiery sphere set in the horizon.

But that's beside the point.

Never had the sunset been so meaningful to me. As Oliver wrapped me in his arms from behind as if he only had today to hold me close to his heart, and as I leaned back against his robust frame, I couldn't help but think that the sunset we admired was a signal marking the end of a chapter in my life and the beginning of another. If what I feel in my gut is right – and it only takes a pregnancy kit to confirm it – I would soon be the mother of Oliver Queen's child.

Oh, how am I going to tell Oliver about this?

* * *

 **Oliver's Journal**

 **May 28, 2012**

It's official.

We were at the clinic today, and yes, the doctor confirmed that Felicity is about four weeks pregnant. That's not all. The ultrasound showed two sacs. I'm going to be the father of twins! Can you believe it?!

Felicity first broke the news to me over dinner on our last night in Bali. She told me that she thinks she's pregnant because she's almost two weeks delayed. She said that the weird things she's been feeling were a lot like when she first found out she was pregnant with Emily. She explained that he menses had always been regular, so… We were so anxious that we wanted to buy a pregnancy test kit so badly, but since we had an early morning flight back to Starling the next day, there were no pharmacies open in Denpasar yet. And even if we had found a drugstore at the airport during our lay-over in Manila and bought one, Felicity said we had to wait until the next morning before she could do the test because early morning urine is the best kind of sample.

We found out in mid-air. Two pink lines appeared when she did the test in the lavatory of the plane. She came back and sat down beside me with tears pooling in her eyes. She said with a proud smile, her lips quivering with uncontrollable joy and excitement, "Congratulations, Mr. Queen. You're going to be a father again." We hugged and we kissed, and whispered I-love-you's in between, as the plane traversed the Pacific Ocean and closed the remaining distance to our city.

We agreed that we would tell Stephen and Emily the good news tonight at bedtime. I'm sure they'd be just as thrilled as we both are. Then we're putting together a family dinner this week to share the good news with the rest of the family.

Felicity says she's positive that the babies she's now carrying in her womb were the result of their father's over-eagerness on the night of the wedding. She's been teasing me that I had hit the bull's eye like a trained archer, considering how precise the timing had been, even if we had not intended to get pregnant so soon. She says she did the math, and since between the two of us she's the genius, I'm totally buying her theory.

Twins. _(deep sigh)_ Who would have thought…? _(smiling now)_ In eight months, our little family will have grown to six. Make that seven. Tomorrow we're going to get that dog and name him or her Bali.

* * *

 **A/N: I should say that I didn't get to go to each and every tourist attraction in Bali that are mentioned in this chapter. I was able to see some in the 10 "mostly business" days that I was there, and those are included here. But the rest, I just got them from the numerous tourist brochures I took from the airport's promotion counter. I hope I was able to do them justice. But if not, and you are from Bali, then I beg your forgiveness and covet your patience and understanding, for I am less than an amateur at Balinese geography, culture, and tourism. Thank you once again for reading! And if you have time, do drop a line or two to let me know how this update was for you.**


	4. Moms

**Chapter 4 - MOMS**

 **Hi! It's been a while since I've updated this fic with a new chapter. The recent celebration of Mother's Day had been special for me, so that gave me ideas and inspiration to add another chapter to this collection. For those of you who have read my other fics in this Arrow/Olicity verse, you will have no problems following the story lines because the characters and events referenced here are taken from those fics I've previously posted in this site and in AO3. If you are reading this for the first time, I think you'll somehow be able to catch on because I tried to give some details to establish back stories, but if you are interested to read more so that you can connect the dots, then you might want to check out "My Mom & My Dad" and the sequel "The Queens."**

 **This is my post-Mothers Day gift to all of you mothers out there who are Arrow and/or Olicity fans. Happy Mothers' Day, and I hope you enjoy this.**

* * *

Oliver's Journal

January 1, 2013

They're asleep. Finally. Haven't had the time for even just a nap in almost 48 hours. Terribly tired, but for some reason, I just can't sleep. Might as well jot down my thoughts on this very special New Year's Day.

I don't remember the last time I've been this tired, but I guess how I feel right now doesn't even come close to the fatigue that Felicity now feels. She's out cold. Can't blame her though. Almost ten hours of labor before the twins came out, and just twenty minutes apart. And then they wheeled her straight from the recovery room to this private maternity suite, with me and our babies each in their bassinets following close behind. Those two have been wide awake since we got here, already asking for their mother's milk. Those lungs! Our kids sure know how to scream. Good thing my wife's breasts are already dripping with the good stuff, and the little ones didn't have much trouble latching on with a little help from the midwife that the nursing staff sent over.

I'm a father again. Still can't quite wrap my head around the thought. It's an overwhelming thought, undeniably. But it's also an amazing feeling! It's like being on top of the world. It's a lot like our wedding day, but without the nasty, double diaper change I had to pull off by myself an hour ago, coz Felicity still can't move that much with the after-effects of the epidural.

It wasn't like this at all when Stephen was born about nine years ago. I wasn't even there for Laurel, and I say that to my shame to this day. I got texts from Quentin and Sara when Laurel started having labor pains, but instead of rushing to the hospital to be with her, I ran. Just as I did months prior when she told me she was pregnant. Just as I did on our wedding rehearsal dinner a month after we told our respective parents, who bitterly obliged us to take responsibility for our impulsive actions and live with the consequences. I was just too scared back then. Maybe "cowardly" is a better term. I'm not really proud of the kind of man, the kind of husband and father that I had been. And when I had finally gotten my act together for my young family, it was too late. Almost. I'm glad I was still given ten months after we found out about Laurel's cancer to enjoy taking good care of them both.

This time is very different, though. I've been given another shot at fatherhood with Felicity as my wife. and I must say that being with her every step of the way has been… (sigh) I have no words.

From the time her water broke at the New Year's Eve party that my mom threw every year for family and friends at the mansion, up to the moment I held our twins in my arms one after the other, it has been like a thrilling roller coaster ride. I actually panicked when Felicity calmly told me that I needed to bring her to the hospital. I couldn't remember anything about everything that we talked about doing when it was time. Stephen was actually the one who snapped me out of my initial shock. (chuckle) I can still hear his words in my ear, "Breathe, Dad," he had said, just before he ran to our bedroom to grab the baby bag Felicity had packed just a week ago. At the hospital, Emily was the one who reminded me to call my in-laws in Vegas to let them know that Felicity was already in labor. When the nurse pushed her in a wheel chair into the Delivery Room, I got even more nervous that the rest of my family that had come along for moral support could no longer be with me in there. Thea had hugged me just as the nurse had to close the D.R. door, telling me, "Everything's gonna be okay, Ollie."

For hours, though, I wasn't sure if that was true. Those contractions… They were mean and scary, I tell you! In the first few hours, Felicity seemed okay. We were still laughing and joking about all sorts of things. My main concern was to make her as comfortable as possible. We even took time in between contractions to finally decide on the twins' names – something that we have been brainstorming since her first trimester.

We got the boy's name nailed first. I named him Thomas John Smoak Queen, after my two best friends, and Felicity got to decide on the nickname TJ. She said we shouldn't make our kids' name too difficult to spell for when they start going to school. The girl's name came much, much later. The first name Olive was no contest compared to the other names we had originally picked out, as my wife wanted to name her after me. But we started arguing about the second name Rose when she reasoned that it was only fitting to name her such because she was convinced that the twins were conceived on the night of our wedding, which was held at the mansion's Rose Garden. I mean, how could she know for sure, when we did it every night for about a week since the wedding? It was a stupid thing to fight about, I know, especially with a woman in labor. But when the contractions were just minutes apart, and Felicity was beginning to yell at me for the things she needed or wanted, I finally caved, on the condition that we get to call our daughter Liv or Livy.

That was the beginning of the terrifying part of the ordeal. The contractions were coming more frequently, and Felicity was dilating fast, but for some reason that the OB couldn't explain, the twins were not descending into the birth canal as expected. When the doctor said that the babies might be in distress if the situation didn't improve soon and suggested doing a cesarean section instead of normal delivery, I must admit, I was scared to death. The twins were already arriving a month earlier than the due date, but them being in distress, and Felicity having to be sliced up on the operating table? That was too much for me to handle. Or so I thought. Felicity begged the doctor to give it a little more time, and the doctor agreed but closely monitored her and the babies' vitals. "A little more time" really took about an hour, maybe two, until the babies started showing signs of descent.

It was painful to watch my wife suffer that way. She clung to my arm fiercely, and her neatly trimmed nails dug into my flesh, leaving multiple half-moon shapes on my skin. I couldn't complain of my pain each time she squeezed real hard. I knew that was nothing compared to the pain she was going through. But when she saw me wince that one time, she suddenly let go and clung to the rails of the hospital bed, causing the cold metal to rattle as she agonized through another painful contraction. In my frustration at my inability to take away my wife's pain, I might have yelled at the doctor to give her the epidural already. When the anesthesia kicked in, I was so happy to see that she was relieved physically, emotionally, and mentally.

But for me, the worst wasn't over. When it was time for the doctor to deliver the babies, I was made to put on a scrub suit and wash my hands thoroughly, so I stepped out of the delivery room to do so. Imagine my horror when I got back, coming in through the door to find my wife's legs now spread out and blood coming out of her. My last thought before I began to stagger and fall was, "So that's what they call crowning…"

I woke up to the sound of a nurse's voice saying, "Mr. Queen! Mr. Queen, get up! It's time!" I had passed out for about a minute, so I was told. Embarrassed as I was, I had to get up from the floor with the nurse's help. I remember thinking that I might have to pay the attending staff a hefty sum of money to keep them quiet about Oliver Queen fainting in his wife's delivery room. The paparazzi and the tabloid reporters that were beginning to converge outside the hospital would pay good money to publish such a juicy scoop!

None of that mattered anymore as soon as I heard my daughter's first shrill cry. It was music to my ears. With trembling hands, I cut the umbilical cord when the doctor let me do the honors. I didn't even realize I was crying until one of the nurses grabbed my hand to keep me from wiping my tears with one of my gloved hands. Nurse said I had to keep my hands sterile.

My affection and admiration for Felicity became stronger and deeper through that ordeal. When the doctor placed Liv on her breast, I decided that my wife is undoubtedly among the strongest persons I know. My mother is another. Any mother is, for that matter.

I watched Felicity live with all the discomforts of pregnancy since her first trimester with a smile on her face, but never have I realized in all my life how much mothers have to sacrifice than at that moment when she braced herself for that final push and cried out with all her might. With my hand on my baby's back, I kissed Felicity's damp forehead and whispered to her, "I love you." Unlike each time I say those words to her and she would usually smile in appreciation or moan in contentment in between kisses, she only groaned in response. It was then that I remembered that our son was still in there. She had already suffered so much just to bring our daughter into this world, and all I wanted was for her to just be able to rest. Yet she still had to hang in there a little longer to deliver our second baby. About twenty minutes later, TJ was out, and the OB began to stitch her up as I held her hand.

As per hospital policy, the twins are now rooming-in with their mother, and she immediately began breastfeeding. Liv and TJ seemed to have been satisfied and are now quietly sleeping. At last. So is Felicity. I told her to sleep while the little ones do, so she could have strength for when they wake up and cry for mommy's milk again. Stephen and Emily will be visiting in the morning with family and close friends.

My heart swells within me as I gaze upon my little family now. I'm totally, hundred percent in love with our twins, but nothing tops how I feel about their mother – the woman who carried my children for eight months with very little complaint, the mother who labored for hours to bring them into this world without giving up. She is, no doubt, the love of my life, and I'm so very, very proud of her.

* * *

Connor's Email to Felicity

Bagram, Afghanistan

May 8, 2022

Hi! Just checking in to make sure you and dad don't worry yourselves to death about me. We landed safely in Bagram Air Base day before yesterday. I'm sorry I'm just emailing now. I know I promised to do it at soon as I arrived, but we were debriefed and oriented all day yesterday, so that's that. We're already being sent on a reconnaissance mission to some place near the borders of Parwan Province tomorrow. We won't be coming back to base for about a week, so don't expect to hear from me again until then.

Please tell Stephen I miss him already, even though I know he hates me being all "bromantic." Tell him the guy from Arizona that's assigned to the bunk bed below mine reminds me so much of him. Give my hugs to TJ and the girls, especially Ems. Arizona guy here was just looking at our most recent family picture – the one Dad Glen took during your anniversary dinner last month – and he's got this goofy smile on his face because he suddenly has a crush on her and asked if he could meet her through Facetime sometime. And tell Dad (for the nth time) that I'll do my very best to keep my promise to come back in one piece at the end of this _first_ tour. (wink)

Just want to say how much I appreciate you backing me up on this. I know it wasn't easy for you and Dad – for the whole family, for that matter – to accept my decision to join the Marines, knowing for sure that I'll be shipped out here. Thanks for understanding why this means a lot to me, and thanks for helping Dad understand a little bit at a time. I must say, I'm mighty glad he has you in his life, and I'm just as glad to have you in mine. You've always been very supportive from the beginning, especially when I lost my mom, and all through those years when I was being difficult. You opened up your heart and your home and shared your wonderful family with me when I felt like I had no one left but my stepdad.

I don't remember ever expressing these to you in so many words – how grateful I am to have you as a second mom. I always thought that hugs were enough. Now that I'm thousands of miles away, I realize they're not. Happy Mother's Day, Felicity! I'm giving you more hugs when I get back.

* * *

Stephen's Journal

June 26, 2024

Today one of my best wishes from way back in middle school was granted. Katie married me. She walked down the aisle in the most gorgeous off-white satin dress. We exchanged vows, holding hands, and I remember thinking how her beautiful brown eyes had never before sparkled the way they did this morning. I know I've said it already in the vows earlier, and I've written it down so many times before, but I'm writing it down again just the same. I'll never get tired of bragging that Katie is my very best friend and childhood sweetheart. She has always been and will always be. She's been there for me since middle school, held my hand throughout college, and cheered me on to finish training to be a cop like Grandpa Quentin and Uncle Roy.

Everyone was there, all dressed up – everyone that mattered, at least. Grandpa Quentin was there, and so were Aunt Sara and Uncle Tommy, Aunt Thea and Uncle Roy. Katie's parents and grandparents were there. The guys from the Police Academy were there, and a handful of our closest friends from high school and college. Grandma Moira and Walter had flown in from London with the best gift ever – the keys to a three-bedroom bungalow in the suburbs. Now I know why Dad has been stalling and keeping me from apartment-hunting, something that Katie has been nagging me about because she didn't like to live in the mansion.

When I proposed to Katie before graduating from the Academy, I was very happy that she had said yes. But at the same time, I was a bit anxious that she might ask for a long engagement so that we could save up enough to spend for the dream wedding she had always talked about way back in high school. I didn't have the heart to tell her that I had wanted to marry her as soon as I graduate.

That's why I was pleasantly surprised when she told me on my graduation day that she wanted us to tie the knot as soon as all the details can be arranged. She said that we didn't have to wait long since we've been together for years. She explained that she no longer wanted a grand, expensive fairytale wedding like she used to. All she wanted was family, our closest friends, the rings, quality photographs, Lucia's specialty Spanish-style brunch, and a weekend in Aspen. Dad and Mom took care of Aspen for our honeymoon as their wedding gift to us, and for everything else, the money I had already saved throughout college had been enough. When I asked Katie why she had given up her dream wedding, she wouldn't give me a definite answer except that she had had a "change of heart." It was only at the rehearsal dinner the other day that I found out why: Mom had gotten through to her. Felicity Smoak does have a way with words.

Felicity. Mom's name really suits her. Ever since my Dad and I met her and Emily in that park all those years ago, she's been nothing but pure bliss. She has brought light and love into our lives. She has made Dad happy. She has made me happy.

I guess that's why two of the highlights of this amazing day has her in it. The first was during the ceremony, when Katie and I were honoring our parents. Mom stood beside my dad proudly, even if she wasn't my biological mother. I believe she's earned the honor. She didn't have to give birth to me to have loved me like her very own son. She's a terrific mom – thoughtful and understanding, caring and generous, smart and funny. My mom Laurel would have loved her, had they met in person. The second highlight was during the reception, when Katie had her father-daughter dance and I had my mother-son dance. I had asked Mom weeks ago if she'd do it, because I know she wasn't very confident about her skills on the dance floor. I didn't have to beg, and she didn't think twice. I'd have to remember to get her something special from Aspen as a thank-you gift, not just for the wedding favors, but more importantly for everything she's done for me through the years.

That's it for now. I'll update later when we get to Aspen. First class is ready for boarding.

* * *

TJ's Note to Felicity on Mother's Day

May 13, 2029

Happy Mother's Day, Mom!

Today, everybody else will say that theirs is the 'Best Mom in the World.' I won't argue with anyone on that. I just think it's a cliché and a hyperbole rolled into one. But, everyone is entitled to his or her own opinion, so... For me, however, you're not the best mom in the world. Sorry. (LOL) You are the best mom for me, and for my brothers and sisters. Like Dad always says, you are remarkable, irreplaceable even. I love you, Mom. Thanks for always having my back.

Mom, I know you want me to go to MIT for college, not only because it's your alma mater, but also because it ranks as the third best school in the world in the field of Arts and Design. But I've made my choice. I'm going to Stanford. It's good enough. More importantly, it's close enough to home. And I love home. I know Liv wants to study in Massachusetts like Emily, and pretty soon Carrie's going to join them. Stephen has his own family, and Connor is still in Afghanistan. Who'll look after you and Dad? I figured I should be near enough if you need anything. I know you're going to be a tad bit disappointed, but trust me on this, okay? Stanford and I will get along just fine. I can feel it in my artistic bones. (wink)

* * *

Carrie's Dairy

February 17, 2031

Mom and I had a really good talk tonight. I realize I've been to self-centered about this whole thing with Trevor. And Dad. I get it now. I think.

Realization #1: Trevor is a jerk!

Dad was right about him all along. He only wanted to get into my pants – my dress, rather, considering it was Prom Night. I don't know how I could have missed the signs. Well, maybe it's coz he's just the coolest, cutest guy in senior high this year. I've had my share of crushes, but no one has really caught my eye since junior high like he has. Maybe it's coz he's the new kid, a transfer student from Singapore who's half-Asian and half-American. On hindsight, I think it's coz I had become too blind to see anything but his good looks and charm.

What I didn't get was how Dad could have known. I mean, Trevor had never been disrespectful, never taken advantage of me, until Friday night. Trevor had kept all of Dad's rules when it came to calls, social media, and coming to the house (including the unreasonable ones). But Dad never once let me go out with him, and I've always resented that. Now though, I'm so glad he knew better and so glad I obeyed no matter how reluctantly (with matching eye rolls).

Realization #2: Dad truly cares.

Mom told me how Dad had fooled around when he was young. Of course, I already knew that Connor and Stephen had different mothers, and Dad has always said that I should trust him about boys and relationships because he knew what he was talking about. But it hasn't quite hit me this hard – my dad's sordid past – until my mom explained (with just the right amount of details) the mess he'd been in. That helped me appreciate how much my dad has changed from the kind of man that he was before he met my mom. Now I understand why my dad has been so protective of me and my sisters, why he's always had serious talks with my brothers. He doesn't want us to make choices we will regret. I see now that Dad truly loves me. He loves us.

Although, I think he went a little overboard this morning. Maybe it was because I'm the youngest Queen, or because I'm sort of Dad's favorite of us all. (Of course, he wouldn't admit it, but I've kind of senses it for as long as I can remember.) He insisted on being the one to drive me to school so that he could march into the Principal's office and personally report Trevor's misdemeanor Friday night at the parking lot of the prom venue. Well, it was that or barging into our classroom and punching Trevor in the face. Mom had to restrain him (bodily) and calm him down over breakfast. It would've been easier if Stephen and TJ were here, but I'm the only Queen left. All my older siblings have already left the house for either work or college. So, Mom called Uncle John and asked him to take me to school instead and take care of the situation. That pacified my dad somehow. But… I might have seen a man clad in black leather and a helmet on a Ducati, circling the school grounds while Uncle Diggle stood outside our classroom waiting to speak with the senior class adviser about Trevor Rogers.

Realization #3: Mom cares just as much.

Mom also told me that she knows exactly what I'm going through as a young woman intensely attracted to a cute guy. She says it's exactly why she made mistakes early on and had Emily out of wedlock a few years before she met Dad, who became the true love of her life. She says she understands how amazing it feels to be the object of someone's affections and how simple touches make a woman's body tingle. She also warned me that unreliable and fleeting emotions can make us do crazy things, and that I shouldn't make choices based on emotions and impulsive reactions because that, most often than not, spells trouble. She didn't want what happened to her to happen to me.

Mom explained that true love is more than just a feeling. She said that loving someone is a choice that is totally different from just being head-over-heels "in love." She advised me to wait for the right person who will come at the right time and whom I will commit to for the right reasons. She helped me see wisdom in choosing my friends well and staying away from those that will only get me into trouble, in focusing on finishing school instead of being sidetracked by infatuation, and in reserving intimacy for that one person that I intend to marry someday. She gave special emphasis on the fact that I had been generously blessed with both a pretty face and an attractive figure; that's why I should be extra careful in the matter of relationships.

Bottom line: I think I don't feel as bad about what happened anymore. I'm just relieved that nothing regrettable happened. I have wonderful, loving parents, and I'd be a fool not to listen to them.

* * *

Liv's Diary

January 25, 2033

Hans and I are waiting to hear from the doctor. Scratch that. I DON'T want to hear anything more. Not right now. It hurts too much.

There was no way I could have known I was two months pregnant. Hans just started teaching at the University of Helsinki, and I'm supposed to enroll in the master's degree program in Linguistics in the Fall. We hadn't planned on it. But it didn't mean we weren't open to the possibility – a possibility that I thought was very slim, considering that I've had the most irregular menses since I hit puberty. The doctors that my mom brought me to for endocrine and reproductive health consultations through the years have told us time and again that my hormone levels were low to low-normal, which might affect my ability to get pregnant. They didn't say it was impossible though, but I kind of assumed that I wouldn't get pregnant so soon. I mean, we only got married last August.

I don't even know how I feel right now. On the one hand, shouldn't I be happy that now, at least, I know I am capable of having kids? On the other hand, I feel terrible… We lost the baby. It hurts.

A huge part of me is still in shock, I guess. I hadn't known. There were no classic signs. No nausea or morning sickness. I had started to feel a bit lethargic a month back, but that's all I can think of. There was no use doing the calendar count because I never know when I'm getting my period. It's just so frustrating! How could I have known?!

Was it something that I did? Something I had eaten? A medicine I took without thinking? I've been racking my brain, but I can't, for the life of me, remember taking anything but vitamins since we arrived in Finland. I didn't even take anything for my head cold last Christmas when Hans suggested it. How could I have known?! A small part of me feels guilty, and I'm afraid if I don't talk to someone soon – someone who'd understand and not judge – I'm going to fall apart. I've never failed at anything before, but now I feel like such a big loser.

I lost our first child.

I can't even begin to describe how painful that is.

Just the other day when I began to bleed, I thought finally, after three months I'm getting my period. But it got so painful and the bleeding was so profuse that Hans had to rush me to the E.R. One moment, the attending physician was telling us that I was pregnant, and then just minutes later he was explaining to us that I was having an abortion. A natural one. For some reason the human body naturally gets rid of a blighted ovum, an egg that wasn't properly fertilized or formed. Our first baby – aborted. What am I supposed to think? The brain of this Harvard grad seems to understand the science behind this, but my heart doesn't. It's comprehensible, but it hurts. So much.

I need my mom. She would understand. She knows how it feels.

Mom lost our last sibling at 2.5 months. She and Dad named the baby Mara even if there was no way to know for sure if she was indeed a girl. That was a horrible time. Carrie and I had been abducted by terrible people who hated our parents. The police, the FBI, and our parents had successfully rescued us and brought back to our family, but in the process, Mom got hurt and lost the baby. I was only a toddler then, but somehow, I understood that her life was in danger. Later on, when I was older and asked Mom why they stopped having children, she took the opportunity to explain everything that went down and why we lost the baby. It was the same reason – blighted ovum.

I must admit, what happened frightened me. I hadn't gone through anything as horrifying as the abduction when I was little. That's all I can remember. There was so much blood that Hans had to buy me adult diapers and help me change all day yesterday. The bleeding had already stopped by the time he brought me here last night, but I was too weak I was ready to pass out from blood loss. The doctors and nurses needed to get a line going so that I wouldn't be dehydrated. My veins were all nearly collapsed, but they managed to get an IV drip going. I feel much better now. We're just waiting to hear from the doctor about the sonogram results. It would tell us whether or not they still need to do the DNC procedure.

Hans phoned my parents while the doctors and nurses were busy attending to me. Mom and Dad are in Gotham on business, but they cancelled their meetings with Wayne Enterprises to come and see me. They'd already contacted the pilot and crew of the Queen jet, but airport officials had to ground all flights from the northeast coast because of a severe snow storm. Hans said that Dad promised they'd fly out of Gotham as soon as the weather clears. Dad also called Grandma Moira last night, asking if she could fly out because she was closer to where we are, but Walter is sick with pneumonia and is himself confined in Devonshire Hospital in London.

I just want to see my mom so badly. Just a hug from her will go a long way. With what's happened, I think I appreciate her more. I just never thought it'd hurt so much to lose a child, even an unborn child. I haven't even seen him or her, never even held the little one. Now I never will. Hans says we can still have another one, sure, but that child will never be able to replace the one we'd lost.

* * *

Emily's Card to Oliver and Felicity

April 25, 2037

Happy 25th Anniversary, Mom and Dad! Wow! You've reached Silver. Wishing you more years of bliss together, way beyond the golden 50th. And Happy Birthday, too, Mom!

It's the first time I didn't get you anything but this e-card. But I'm quite certain that the news it carries more than makes up for the lack of a tangible gift. Here goes…

Andy and I are expecting!

I did the pregnancy test two weeks ago but we still haven't gotten the chance to go to an OB. Extremely busy at QC. Andy couldn't wait any longer to get confirmation, so we went to see Dr. Snow at the company clinic last week, and the sonogram she did showed that I'm six weeks on the family way. We decided to wait until your big day to tell you. I hope you're happy to be grandparents all over again, with _**me**_ this time.

* * *

Felicity's Diary

April 25, 2037

Got the best news in a long, long time today. Emily's pregnant! Oh, that makes me so, so happy! Oliver's ecstatic, too. We've already called her and Andy to congratulate them, and Oliver wants me to make some changes in tomorrow's celebration of our anniversary to include an announcement of this new development in the family. I'm gonna do that first thing in the morning. For sure, he's going to mention it in his speech before he offers a toast.

Emily and Andy. (sigh) The first time I saw heart eyes on those two about three years ago, I couldn't believe it. I remember sitting in Emily's office that day, enjoying the friendly banter between them, and right then and there I knew they were meant to be. Who would have thought that those childhood friends would end up together? I certainly didn't. Neither did Oliver. Or John and Lyla. But it happened.

When Emily finished her master's degree and returned to Starling from MIT to take over my position as head of the IT Department of QC, she was so focused on her job that she didn't have the time to spare to go out and have fun and meet people. I had nagged her about this for several months. Well, it turns out it worked out well that she didn't go out dating just to be able to move on from the heartache of losing her first serious boyfriend. Working long hours at the office meant being close to Andy Diggle.

It's like life came around full circle for my daughter and Andy. They were playmates when they were little, growing up as really good friends, since Oliver and I were really close with John and Lyla. John was Oliver's bodyguard and used to head QC's security; now Andy's in-charge of the company's security. Emily filled in the seat I vacated and now runs cybersecurity for the company like I once did. They've known each other almost their entire lives, and yet it was QC that brought them together. It's been a year and a half since they got married, but I still can't get over how amazing it is!

When Andy asked Oliver and me for permission to marry Emily, we knew that it was just formality. They are, after all, old enough to make their own decisions. He was being the respectful, honorable man that he is. Oliver and I were convinced our daughter was going to say "yes" the moment he proposed. She did. We've never been happier for Emily than that day she came home with the ring on her finger, eyes gleaming with joy and sparkling with unshed tears.

Emily has gone through so much in her young life. Multiple times when she was a toddler, she almost died because of her allergies and severe asthma attacks. There was that one time that it was Oliver that had saved her, sprinting from the park to Starling General with her in his arms. Then she struggled with having new siblings when the twins arrived, and later on Carrie, Daddy's pretty princess who dethroned her as the apple of Oliver's eye. She'd healed slowly from that, after the kidnap and rescue of her younger sisters, when she realized that deep down inside her love for them was greater than her insecurities. And then five years ago, she had gone through severe depression when Vince died in the line of duty, with her on the comms. She resigned from the job she loved so much, left the FBI, and came home from Virginia a broken young woman. Watching my daughter suffer from that traumatic experience crushed my heart. Thank God, she's recovered, picked up the pieces, and moved on.

Now, my daughter, my firstborn, is going to be a mother. Emily will be a mom in seven and a half months! I'm so thrilled! She's going to realize how one small child is going to turn her life around.

Last year I spent three months in Finland helping Liv and Hans with their twins, and now I'm going to be on grandma duty again for Emily and Andy real soon. Can't wait!

Life has been good. Oliver and I are still going strong. Connor is still alive. Stephen and Liv each have wonderful families. Emily is expecting. TJ is happily married with Jen. Carrie has a thriving tech business in Central City and is still wearing her purity promise ring. I used to ask God what I ever did to deserve all these blessings, but now, I just choose to humbly accept them and appreciate them as grace. I cannot ask for more.

* * *

 **A/N: I still can't decide if this will be the last chapter in this fic (and in this verse), so I didn't mark this Complete yet. It has a feel of finality, but I might think of ideas in various points of the timeline of the Queen family. What do you think? Should I keep going? Once again, reviews are very much welcome and are certainly much appreciated. Thanks for reading!**


	5. Granny Duty

**Chapter 5 - GRANNY DUTY**

 **Summary: Oliver is 57, and Felicity is 52. They attempt Granny Duty to give their grown-up kids and their spouses a couples' night out. Imagine what happens.**

 **A/N: I'm not too happy about how this turned out because I was kind of in a hurry to post it in time for Grandparents' Day (only, it's one day late). It hasn't been proofed, but I still hope that those of you who follow this series will still like it. Here goes...**

* * *

 ** _Oliver's Journal_**

 ** _January 2, 2039_**

I guess it comes with age – waking up at 5 a.m. every single day even if I've retired late the night before. I don't even remember the last time when Felicity or I set an alarm to get up in the morning. It must have been right about the time when all the kids were still of school age. I would have wanted to sleep in since today is Sunday, and after a really long night, but I'm wide awake. It's been a while since the last time I journaled, so I thought I'd jot down a few things before I go on my morning walk, which used to be a morning run, before my left knee started giving me problems close to a year ago. Another sign of aging. The tests came out negative for what the doctor feared was a meniscus tear, so after the steroid injection to my knee a few months ago, I was cleared to resume physical exercise, only, now I walk instead of jog. It can sometimes be so frustrating – how my mind tells me stuff I'd like to do, but my body keeps protesting that it isn't like the well-oiled machine that it used to be.

Hey… Wait a second… I'm rambling! That's what I get for marrying the fantastic woman that is Felicity Smoak Queen. She's already downstairs in the kitchen, giving instructions to the new housekeeper that replaced Lucia just before Christmas. Lucia retired – finally – after serving the Queen family faithfully for more than four decades. I miss her already, especially her cooking. And here I am babbling away on this tablet again. Too much of Felicity has rubbed off on me.

Where was I? Right, I wanted to journal about my family and how we've just spent the holidays.

The past couple of weeks have been among the best that the Queen family has had so far. My daughter Liv, her husband Hans, and their 2-year-old twins, Kristof and Kristen, arrived from Finland three days before Christmas. The University of Helsinki is sending Hans to present a paper at a conference sponsored by the League of Linguists in Starling City on the first week of January. Hans took the opportunity and filed for an extended leave so that they can spend more time with us.

This is the first time they've been able to visit the U.S. since they had the twins. They used to come over once a year during summer break, but when Liv finally got pregnant again after the miscarriage in 2033, we knew they wouldn't be able to visit again sometime soon. Felicity and I flew to Helsinki when Liv gave birth, but I had to come back after a week to attend to QC Board matters. Felicity stayed for almost a month to help Liv with the babies. My wife is an expert at child care, having given birth to our own twins all those years ago. She enjoyed and cherished her time with Kristoff and Kristen – no matter how short – and was in tears at the airport when she made the call to tell me that she was ready to board the Queen jet even if she didn't want to leave our daughter and her young family yet.

Walter and Mom flew in from London two days before Christmas. They surprised us, actually. When Felicity came to the door, there they were with their warm smiles and their huge luggage filled with presents for everyone, including the latest great-grandkid, Ellie Diggle, Emily and Andy's daughter who just turned one about two weeks ago. My mother said that when they learned from Liv that she and Hans and the twins are spending the holidays in Starling City, they had decided they didn't want to miss being with family for Christmas.

Because of that, Felicity thought of asking her parents if they'd like to come over to celebrate Christmas too. Donna and Edward Smoak readily agreed, excited to see their grand-kids and great-grand-kids, and of course, their daughter and son-in-law (more than they'd care to admit). I arranged for the company jet to fly them over from Vegas just in time for Christmas Eve.

Christmas Day was just as lovely (and rowdy) as Christmas Eve. The Queen Mansion was alive with the laughter and screams of children, and warmed by the hugs and conversations of grown-ups that now include our children. Can't believe how time flies by! Just a couple of decades ago, our kids – Connor, Stephen, Emily, Liv, TJ, and then later Carrie – were the ones eagerly unwrapping presents from under the tree. Now, it's our grandkids' turn.

Connor is six, and Colton is five. They're our oldest grandkids, Stephen and Katie's sons. Those boys are sure growing up fast! They asked for DC hero action figures, so of course, Felicity and I went all out and bought them all of the action figures available in the store. It was a joy watching their wide-eyed wonder as they pulled out Batman, Superman, and the rest of the Justice League heroes from the boxes. The Green Arrow and the Flash instantly became their favorites. Our biggest mistake was not buying them one of each, which lately has become a source of sibling rivalry and domestic stress, Stephen says. The other mistake was buying a Wonder Woman action figure, which of course neither of them wanted.

It's a good thing I now have a granddaughter. Two, actually. But since Kristen is older than Ellie, she's getting Wonder Woman.

The Koskinen twins are just adorable as I remember our Liv and TJ had been. I know that Kristof and Kristen are in the "terrible two" stage, and sometimes they behave typically. But I just can't get enough of them! Kristof had asked for a toy car, but I bought him a rechargeable motorized car that he could ride around the garage and the park in (of course, under adult supervision). Kristen had asked for a doll, but I bought her the best and most fashionable one I could find, plus a doll house that she could fit into to go with it. Felicity arranged for the toys to be delivered door-to-door to their house in Finland by the time they get back, since the items are too big and bulky to be brought on a commercial flight. I think that doesn't count as favoritism, considering I hardly get to see them. It's a good thing they don't live here in Starling, or I'm afraid I might spoil them rotten.

Felicity, though, seems to have a stronger bond with them. Maybe it's because she got the chance to take care of them when they were newborns. She's a wonderful _mummo,_ as the Finnish call their grandmas, and she loves hearing both toddlers call her _mummi,_ which is the equivalent of granny. Felicity finds it endearing and flattering (even if she looks so much younger and more attractive than most grandmothers, I must say). When she came back from Helsinki, she taught Connor and Colton to call her just that. Now, she's teaching little Ellie to say the word, and because our youngest grandchild is just as verbally and linguistically gifted as her mother Emily and her Aunt Liv, Ellie has had no trouble saying _mummi_ so far, to my wife's delight.

Ellie Diggle is just as charming as my Carrie has always been. Outwardly, she's a combination of her parents' features. She has Emily's bright eyes, button nose, facial shape, and soft, wavy hair texture, but her eye color, hair color, and complexion are all Andy's. So far, however, her personality is a lot like her Aunt Carrie's. Emily and Andy better prepare themselves for when little Ellie grows up and becomes old enough to date. That's what Felicity kept telling me when our youngest daughter was growing up. I think we still have to wait until Ellie's a bit older to tell whose side of the family she got her brain from. No offense to Andy and my good friend John, but I sure hope Ellie gets her Mummi Felicity's and her Mommy Emily's smarts. She isn't old enough to ask for something specific for Christmas, so we got her baby clothes to last her the entire winter and spring seasons.

We don't have grandkids from TJ yet. He and Jen have been married for close to two years now, and they've been trying, but so far, none yet. I told my son to enjoy it being just the two of them, because when the little ones start coming, it's going to be a real challenge.

Well, so much for that. I just love talking about my grandkids, you know? I just hope and pray they turn out as well as our kids did. Felicity and I are mighty proud. The little ones are off to a bit of a rough start, but I'm sure they'll get there sure enough.

I love our grand-kids, but I'm just relieved that we don't have to live with them 24/7. Felicity and I get to enjoy them for a few hours whenever they come over, but then we get to give them back to their parents. They can get to be quite a handful, those little rascals. Just like last night. Last night was… nothing that Pappa Oliver couldn't handle.

Our kids and their spouses wanted to go on a rare couples' date night, you know, take a break from parenting for a night and catch up on each other's lives. Even TJ and Jen were coming. Carrie, too, was tagging along with Sean, her boyfriend for almost a year now. Felicity and I thought it was a great idea, so we volunteered to do granny duty. I've had to break up a fight or two, clean up some mess, and play pretend to make them happy. But all in all, we had fun. It turns out that looking after five grand-kids was manageable. Everything was under control.

* * *

 ** _Felicity's Diary_**

 ** _January 2, 2039_**

"Remind me never to volunteer for something like that again!"

That's what Oliver had said last night as soon as he shut our bedroom door behind him. I wanted to laugh so hard, just like I did when I stumbled upon him on the floor on all fours pretending to be a unicorn while Kristen giggled with glee and Kristof saddled up on his back. Our kids would have paid big money to see their dad make a fool of himself for the love of his grand-kids. I reined in my emotions and kept myself from laughing out loud, because I know my husband had had enough stress to deal with for the night and might have gone ballistic if but one chuckle escaped me.

But really, I did find his best efforts at granny duty quite admirable and endearing. Despite his bad knee, he obliged our grand-kids. The CEO of Queen Consolidated playing with little children that had him wrapped around their fingers. Hmm… Tommy, John, Roy, and Quentin would have a heyday if they had seen that – and everything else that went down last night.

Like dinner, for instance. That had gone pretty well. Until baby Ellie started crying and asking for her mom.

Oliver picked her up from the high chair to comfort her, and that's when she decided to empty her stomach on his shirt. Something like that hasn't happened since our Carrie our youngest was little, and that was about 20 years ago. Understandably, Oliver was caught by surprise. My heart skipped a beat when he nearly dropped our granddaughter in an attempt to avoid more of what was coming out of her mouth. Of course, I reacted quickly and picked up the nearest kitchen towel to catch the rest of it, and then some paper towel to wipe Ellie's face clean. I took Ellie from Oliver and told him that I would take care of her upstairs while he cleaned up the puddle of puke on the floor. I promised that as soon as I finished tidying up Ellie and changing her clothes, I would come right back to be with the kids so that he could clean himself up.

It took me longer than expected to come back down. Ellie just wouldn't stop crying. She kept putting her finger into her mouth while screaming for her mom. I was so tempted to call Emily, but I didn't want to worry her or Andy and ruin their night out. I got her bathing stuff and a fresh change of clothes and diaper ready, with her on my hip. But as I started to remove her soiled onesie, I noticed that she was quite warm to the touch. I thought about taking her temp, and when I did, she was indeed running a low-grade fever. I figured, Ellie must be teething. That must be why she didn't really feel like eating, why she kept chewing on her finger, and why she was having a slight fever. I gave her something for the fever and kept my fingers crossed that she wouldn't vomit. Good thing she didn't.

I bathed her very quickly in warm water, and then immediately put on her diaper and pajamas. All the while she was still crying. As soon as she was clean, dry, and warm, I began to sway and hum to comfort her. Soon, the crying turned into soft sobs and sniffles, and after a few more minutes, Ellie dozed off. I put her down in her crib and covered her legs with the blanket.

As I turned on the baby monitor, I heard yelling coming from downstairs. Hurriedly, I headed straight to the dining room. There I found Oliver trying his best to break up a fist fight between Connor and Colton, while Kristen and Kristof cheered for the cousin each of them was rooting for.

Just as I moved to help Oliver with conflict resolution, Kristen suddenly stood up on her high chair and it started to tip over. For a split second, I panicked. But I guess instinct took over, and I just found myself lunging to catch my granddaughter, just before the high chair crashed and she hit the floor. Good heavens! I thought it was my heart that crashed instead! My big toe hurt (and for the record, it still does) because part of the chair had fallen on it. But that's okay. Kristen was safe in my arms.

By the time I had gathered my wits about me and turned to see how my husband was doing refereeing the fist fight, the Green Arrow action figure that Connor and Colton were fighting over flew across the dining table and straight at Kristof's head, hitting him near his left eye. Kristof screamed at the top of his lungs and began to cry.

"Now look what you've done!" Oliver yelled at the boys, who, by then, had already let go of each other. "You ought to be ashamed of yourselves for fighting over a stupid toy!"

"The Green Arrow isn't stupid!" Connor yelled back.

"And it's not nice to say stupid, Grandpa!" Colton added.

Oliver didn't know what else to say. He couldn't believe that the table had turned just like that. He was suddenly the one being scolded by the boys.

I, on the other hand, didn't know what to do with the twins. When Kristen saw that her brother was already upset about the toy hitting his head, she started crying too. I picked him up from his high chair, and he clung to me for dear life, pointing to the booboo near his eye. As I carried him and his sister, on my left and right hips, they began to speak in rapid Finnish, which, to me, sounded like plain gibberish. I didn't know what they wanted because I couldn't understand what they were saying as they cried their hearts out. And as if things couldn't get any worse, I heard Ellie's cries over the baby monitor loud and clear.

At that time, I knew the situation was serious enough to warrant an intrusive phone call from a grandparent. I wondered where my phone was, and for the life of me, I couldn't remember where I last saw it or put it. Which has never happened to me before.

I looked over to where Oliver stood between Connor and Colton, and when our gazes locked, we both knew we were in trouble and needed help. It has been a long time since we've had to break up a fight that involved our own kids. Our strategies are a bit rusty.

"Go. Take the twins with you," Oliver told me. "I'll handle these two."

I put Kristof and Kristen down and started for the stairs with both of them in tow. When we got to the nursery, Ellie was standing, holding on to the wooden railing of the crib as she cried. I swiftly put the twins into the giant playpen that Oliver and I bought the day the Koskinens arrived, and then I picked up Ellie.

After a few minutes, Oliver and Stephen's boys were at the door.

"Take Ellie to our room. It's quiet there," Oliver told me. "We'll be fine here." I nodded in agreement.

It took me about twenty minutes or so to pacify Ellie, and then I brought her back to the nursery when she fell back to sleep. When we got there, Oliver and the kids were no longer there. I tucked Ellie into her crib and went looking for them.

I found them in the playroom. The sight that greeted me made all of the angst and stress from the last hour or so fade away. Like I said, Oliver was on the floor on all fours, pretending to be a unicorn to the whimsical delight of our grand-kids. In the beginning, it was just Kristof riding on his back, but soon Kristen climbed on his back too. Connor got on the trolley and dared the unicorn to race with him. Colton slapped his grandpa's butt and shouted, "Go, unicorn, go!"

I couldn't help it. I laughed! I haven't had a good laugh in quite some time. At that moment, as I leaned against the door frame of the playroom watching my husband and our grand-kids play, I thought about how blessed we are to have such simple joys in life.

* * *

I totally forgot all about making that SOS call to our kids, until they came back close to midnight. All five kids were snugly tucked in their beds, already asleep. They told us that they had a wonderful night out, and they thanked us with big hugs and kisses on the cheek for babysitting for them.

All of our kids and their spouses ended up spending the night here at the mansion. We have plenty of room after all. Stephen and Katie didn't want to wake their kids just to bring them home. TJ and Jen didn't bother going home either. Even Carrie's boyfriend Sean stayed over in one of the guest rooms.

They didn't need to hear about how granny duty went. Oliver and I agreed that we will never mention any of it to them. We didn't want them never to ask us to babysit for them again. We didn't want them to think that it was a burden. Because even if the initial reaction was one of surrender, we both agreed on the same thing before we went to bed. Sure, it was a challenge, but we survived it. And no matter how hard, Oliver and I would do it again. And again. As long as we're strong enough to do so.

Granny duty is a both a privilege and a pleasure.

* * *

 **A/N: So how did you like Olicity as grandparents?**


End file.
